GIFT  OF 
Professor  Hinds 


POEMS    BY   JOHN    B.  TABB. 


Poems  by 
John  B  Tabb 


BOSTON 

COPELAND  AND  DAY 
MDCCCXCJV 


ENTERED  ACCORDING  TO  THE  ACT 
OF  CONGRESS,  IN  THE  YEAR  1894, 
BY  COPELAND  AND  DAY,  IN  THE 
OFFICE  OF  THE  LIBRARIAN  OF  CON 
GRESS  AT  WASHINGTON. 


•?. 


AVE:    SIDNEY  LANIER. 

C*RE  Times  horizon-line  was  set, 
•*--'  Somewhere  in  space  our  spirits  mety 
Then  d1  er  the  starry  parapet 

Came  wandering  here. 
And  now,  that  thou  art  gone  again 
Beyond  the  ^uerge,  I  haste  amain 
(Lost  echo  of  a  loftier  strain) 
To  greet  thee  there. 


M39999 


CONTENTS. 

THE    RING 

LIMITATION  2 

NEKROS  3 

WESTWARD  4 

TO    A    PHOTOGRAPH  5 

MY    STAR  6 

CONTENT  7 

ROBIN  8 

THE    WHITE    JESSAMINE  9 

THE    CLOUD  10 

PHANTOMS  12 

THE    VOYAGERS  13 

THE    SWALLOW  14 

CLOISTERED  1 6 

THE    LONELY    MOUNTAIN  I? 

ECHOES  1 8 

PHOTOGRAPHED  2O 

THE    HALF-RING  MOON                                                                     21 

ENSHRINED  22 

IN    MY    ORANGE  GROVE                                                                 23 

INTIMATIONS  24 

EVOLUTION  25 

LOVE'S    HYBLA  26 

WAYFARERS  27 

THE    PEAK  28 

THE    CAPTIVES  29 


MY    PHOTOGRAPH  PAGE  30 

BROTHERHOOD  3! 

EVICTED  32 

GRIEF    LONG  33 

RECOGNITION  34 

AN    INFLUENCE  35 

HELPMATES  36 

TO    MY    SHADOW  37 

THE    LAKE  jg 

THE    DAY-SPRING  39 

THE    CHORD  40 

COMPENSATION  4! 

VISIBLE    SOUND  42 

TO    THE    SUMMER    WIND  43 

NARCISSUS  44 

CHILDHOOD  4^ 

TO    AN    OLD    WASSAIL    CUP  46 

FOUNTAIN    HEAD  47 

THE    REAPER  4g 

THE    BUTTERFLY  49 

THE    STRANGER  5O 

JOY  -j 

REGRET  ^2 

SLEEP  53 

YORICK'S  SKULL  54 

KEATS SAPPHO  55 

THE    BROOK  56 

vi 


KILLDEE  PAGE  57 

THE    MOCKING-BIRD  58 

THE    HUMMING-BIRD  59 

THE    LARK  60 

THE    BLUEBIRD  6l 

TO    A    WOOD-ROBIN  62 

BLOSSOM  63 

TO    A    ROSE  64 

THE    WATER-LILY  65 

THE    PLAINT    OF    THE    ROSE  66 

THE    VIOLET    SPEAKS  67 

TO    THE    VIOLET  68 

GOLDENROD  69 

STAR  JESSAMINE  JO 

THE  DANDELION  71 

FERN  SONG  72 

AUTUMN  GOLD  73 

AUTUMN  SONG  74 

INDIAN  SUMMER  75 

DECEMBER  76 

AT  THE  YEAR'S  END  77 

THE  CHRISTMAS  BABE  78 

THE  LIGHT  OF  BETHLEHEM  79 

OUT  OF  BONDS  80 

MISTLETOE  8 1 

EASTER  82 

EASTER    LILIES  83 

vii 


RESURRECTION  PAGE  £4 

AWAKENING  85 

EARTH'S  TRIBUTE  86 

THE  RECOMPENSE  87 

RABBONI  88 

TO    THE    CHRIST  89 

THE    IMMACULATE  CONCEPTION                                               90 

THE    ANNUNCIATION  91 

THE    INCARNATION  92 

THE    ASSUMPTION  93 

MAGDALEN  94 

ABSOLVED  95 

THE    PRECURSOR  96 

97 


SON    OF    MARY 


CHRIST    TO    THE    VICTIM-TREE  98 

ANGELS    OF    PAIN  99 

A    LENTEN    THOUGHT  IOO 

IS    THY    SERVANT    A    DOG  IOI 

HOLY    GROUND  JO2 

THE    PLAYMATES  103 

TO    THE    BABE    NIVA  104 

A    PHONOGRAPH  105 

A    CRADLE    SONG  106 

CONFIDED  J07 

THE    TAX-GATHERER  jog 

BABY  ,09 

BABY'S  DIMPLES  no 

viii 


A    BUNCH    OF    ROSES  PAGE   III 

THE    NEW-YEAR    BABE  112 

MILTON  113 

TO    SHELLEY  114 

SAPPHO  H5 

TO    SIDNEY    LANIER  Il6 

ON    THE    FORTHCOMING    VOLUME    OF    SIDNEY 

LANIER'S  POEMS  117 

FATHER    DAMIEN  Il8 

THE    SNOW-DROP  119 

QUATRAINS. 

FOR    THE    RAIN    IT    RAINETH    EVERY    DAY  123 

THE    MAST  124 

A  STONE'S  THROW  125 

LOVE'S  AUTOGRAPH  126 

RENEWAL  127 

PREJUDICE  128 

THE    BUBBLE  129 

OVERSPENT  130 

IMAGINATION  131 

RUIN  132 

BECALMED  133 

THE    SPHINX  134 

DISCREPANCY  135 

POETRY  136 

SAP  137 

IX 


SLEEP  PAGE   138 

THE    PYRAMIDS  139 

FORMATION  14° 

THE    PROMONTORY  141 

STARS  I42 

WHISPER  143 

THE    SUN  144 

THE    SUNBEAM  145 

ALTER    EGO  I46 

REFLECTION  147 

ESTRANGEMENT  I48 

BEETHOVEN ANGELO  149 

THE    SHADOW  150 

SONNETS. 

THE    INDIAN    OF    SAN    SALVADOR  153 

KEATS  154 

SILENCE  *55 

UNUTTERED  *56 

SOLITUDE  J57 

LOVE'S    RETROSPECT  158 

A    WINTER    TWILIGHT  159 

GLIMPSES  1 60 

THE    AGONY  *<>I 

THE    DEAD   TREE  J^2 

HOMELESS  l63 

THE    PETRAL  164 


AT    ANCHOR  PAGE  165 

SHADOWS  1 66 

THE    MOUNTAIN  167 

UNMOORED  l68 

EUGENIE  169 

GOLGOTHA  17° 

THE    PORTRAIT  172 


THE  RING. 

>LD  the  trinket  hear  thin«  eye, 
'And  it  circles  eartVaiid  sky^  "J 
Place  it  further,  and  behold! 
•But  a  finger's  breadth  of  gold. 

Thus  our  lives,  beloved,  lie 
Ringed  with  love's  fair  boundary; 
Place  it  further,  and  its  sphere 
Measures  but  a  falling  tear. 


me  or  below; 
v^r  canst 'thou1  farther  go 
Than  the  spirit's  octave-span, 
Harmonizing  God  and  Man. 

Thus  within  the  iris-bound, 
Light  a  prisoner  is  found  5 
Thus  within  my  soul  I  see 
Life  in  Time's  captivity. 


NEKROS. 

LO!  all  thy  glory  gone! 
God's  masterpiece  undone! 
The  last  created  and  the  first  to  fall} 
The  noblest,  frailest,  godliest  of  all. 

Death  seems  the  conqueror  now, 

And  yet  his  victor  thou : 

The  fatal  shaft,  its  venom  quench' d  in  thee, 

A  mortal  raised  to  immortality. 

Child  of  the  humble  sod, 

Wed  with  the  breath  of  God, 

Descend !  for  with  the  lowest  thou  must  lie  - 

Arise!  thou  hast  inherited  the  sky. 


WESTWARD. 

AND  dost  thou  lead  him  hence  with  thee, 
O  setting  sun, 
And  leave  the  shadows  all  to  me 

When  he  is  gone  ? 
Ah,  if  my  grief  his  guerdon  be, 

My  dark  his  light, 
I  count  each  loss  felicity, 
And  bless  the  night. 


TO  A  PHOTOGRAPH. 

O  TENDER  shade! 
Lone  captive  of  enamoured  Light, 
That  from  an  angel  visage  bright 
A  glance  betrayed. 

Dost  thou  not  sigh 
To  wander  from  thy  prison-place  ? 
To  seek  again  the  vanished  face, 

Or  else,  to  die  ? 

A  shade  like  thee, 

Dim  Eidolon  —  a  dream  disproved  — 
A  memory  of  light  removed, 

Behold  in  me! 


MY  STAR. 

SINCE  that  the  dewdrop  holds  the  star 
The  long  night  through, 
Perchance  the  satellite  afar 
Reflects  the  dew. 

And  while  thine  image  in  my  heart 

Doth  steadfast  shine 5 
There,  haply,  in  thy  heaven  apart 

Thou  keepest  mine. 


CONTENT. 

WERE  all  the  heavens  an  overladen  bough 
Of  ripened  benediction  lowered  above  me, 
What  could  I  crave,  soul-satisfied  as  now 
That  thou  dost  love  me  ? 

The  door  is  shut.      To  each  unsheltered  Blessing 
Henceforth  I  say,  "  Depart!    What  would1  st  thou 
of  me  ?" 

Beggared  I  am  of  want,  this  boon  possessing, 
That  thou  dost  love  me. 


ROBIN. 

COME  to  me,  Robin!     The  daylight  is  dying! 
Come  to  me  now! 

Come,  ere  the  cypress-tree  over  me  sighing, 
Dank  with  the  shadow-tide,  circle  my  brow; 
Come,  ere  oblivion  speed  to  me,  flying 
Swifter  than  thou ! 

Come  to  me,  Robin!     The  far  echoes  waken 

Cold  to  my  cry! 

Oh!  with  the  swallow-wing,  love  overtaken, 
Hence  to  the  Echo-land,  homeward,  to  fly! 
Thou  art  my  life,  Robin.      Oh !  love-forsaken, 

How  can  I  die  ? 


THE  WHITE  JESSAMINE. 

I  KNEW  she  lay  above  me, 
Where  the  casement  all  the  night 
Shone,  softened  with  a  phosphor  glow 

Of  sympathetic  light, 
And  that  her  fledgling  spirit  pure 
Was  pluming  fast  for  flight. 

Each  tendril  throbbed  and  quickened 
As  I  nightly  climbed  apace, 

And  could  scarce  restrain  the  blossoms 
When,  anear  the  destined  place, 

Her  gentle  whisper  thrilled  me 
Ere  I  gazed  upon  her  face. 

I  waited,  darkling,  till  the  dawn 
Should  touch  me  into  bloom, 

While  all  my  being  panted 
To  outpour  its  first  perfume, 

When,  lo !  a  paler  flower  than  mine 
Had  blossomed  in  the  gloom ! 


THE  CLOUD. 

FAR  on  the  brink  of  day 
Thou  standest  as  the  herald  of  the  dawn, 
Where  fades  the  night's  last  flickering  spark  away 
Ere  the  first  dewdrop  's  gone. 

Above  the  eternal  snows 
By  winter  scattered  on  the  mountain  height 
To  shroud  the  centuries,  thy  visage  glows 

With  a  prophetic  light. 

Calm  is  thine  awful  brow; 
As  when  thy  presence  shrined  Divinity 
Between  the  flaming  Cherubim,  so  now 

Its  shadow  clings  to  thee. 

Yet  as  an  Angel  mild 

Thou,  in  the  torrid  noon,  with  sheltering  wing 
Dost  o'er  the  earth,  as  to  a  weary  child, 

A  balm  celestial  bring. 

And  when  the  evening  dies, 
Still  to  thy  fringed  vesture  cleaves  the  light  — 
The  last  sad  glimmer  of  her  tearful  eyes 

On  the  dark  verge  of  night. 

So,  soon  thy  glories  wane! 

Thou  too  must  mourn  the  rose  of  morning  shed: 
Cold  creeps  the  fatal  shadow  o'er  thy  train, 

And  settles  on  thy  head. 

10 


And  while  the  wistful  eye 

Yearns  for  the  charm  that  wooed  its  ravished  gaze, 
The  sympathy  of  Nature  wakes  a  sigh, 

And  thus  its  thought  betrays: 

"  Thou,  like  the  Cloud,  my  soul, 
Dost  in  thyself  of  beauty  nought  possess; 
Devoid  the  light  of  Heaven,  a  vapor  foul, 

The  veil  of  nothingness!  " 


PHANTOMS. 

ARE  ye  the  ghosts  of  fallen  leaves, 
O  flakes  of  snow, 

For  which,  through  naked  trees,  the  winds 
A-mourning  go  ? 

Or  are  ye  angels,  bearing  home 

The  host  unseen 
Of  truant  spirits,  to  be  clad 

Again  in  green  ? 


12 


THE  VOYAGERS. 
'T^HE  Spring  in  festival  array, 
-L  From  Death  to  Life,  from  Night  to  Day, 

Came  floating  o'er  the  main; 
And  now  with  banners  brave  and  bright, 
From  Life  to  Death,  from  Day  to  Night, 
The  Autumn  drifts  again. 


THE  SWALLOW. 

SKIM  o'er  the  tide, 
And  from  thy  pinions  fling 
The  sparkling  water-drops, 

Sweet  child  of  spring! 

Bathe  in  the  dying  sunshine  warm  and  bright, 
Till  ebbs  the  last  receding  wave  of  light. 

Swift  glides  the  hour, 

But  what  its  flight  to  thee  ? 
Thine  own  is  fleeter  far; 

E'en  now  to  me 

Thou  seem'st  upon  futurity  anon 
To  beckon  thence  the  tardy  present  on. 

The  eye  in  vain 

Pursues,  with  subtle  glance, 
Thy  dim,  delirious  course 

Through  heaven's  expanse: 
Vanished  thy  form  upon  the  wings  of  thought, 
Ere  yet  its  place  the  lagging  vision  caught. 

Again  thou'rt  here, 

A  slanting  arrow  sent 
From  yon  fair-tinted  bow, 

In  promise  bent; 

As  when,  erewhile,  the  gentle  bird  of  love 
Poised  her  white  wing  the  new-born  land  above. 


A  seeming  shade, 

Scarce  palpable  in  form, 
Yet  thine,  alas,  the  change 

Of  calm  and  storm ! 

The  veering  passions  of  my  stronger  soul 
Alike  the  throbbings  of  thy  heart  control. 

For  day  is  done, 

And  cloyed  of  long  delight, 
Like  me  thou  welcomest 

The  sober  night  j 

Like  me,  aweary,  sinkest  on  that  breast, 
That  woos  all  nature  to  her  silent  rest. 


i: 


CLOISTERED. 

WITHIN  the  compass  of  mine  eyes 
Behold,  a  lordly  city  lies  — 
A  world  to  me  unknown, 
Save  that  along  its  crowded  ways 
Moves  one  whose  heart  in  other  days 
Was  mated  to  mine  own. 

I  ask  no  more}  enough  for  me 
One  heaven  above  us  both  to  see, 

One  calm  horizon-line 
Around  us,  like  a  mystic  ring 
That  Love  has  set,  encompassing 

That  kindred  life  and  mine. 


16 


THE  LONELY  MOUNTAIN. 

ONE  bird,  that  ever  with  the  wakening  spring 
Was  wont  to  sing, 

I  wait,  through  all  my  woodlands,  far  and  near, 
In  vain  to  hear. 

The  voice  of  many  waters,  silent  long 

Breaks  forth  in  song  5 
Young  breezes  to  the  listening  leaves  outpour 

Their  heavenly  lore: 

A  thousand  other  winged  warblers  sweet, 

Returning,  greet 
Their  fellows,  and  rebuild  upon  my  breast 

The  wonted  nest. 

But  unto  me  one  fond  familiar  strain 

Comes  not  again  — 
A  breath  whose  faintest  echo,  farthest  heard, 

A  mountain  stirred. 


ECHOES. 

WHERE  of  old,  responsive 
As  the  wind  and  foam, 
Rose  the  joyous  echoes, 

Desolate  I  roam, 
Nor  find  one  lingering  sound  to  hail  the  wanderer  home. 

Silence,  long  unbroken, 

Break  thy  rigid  spell! 
Free  the  fairy  captives 

Of  the  mountain  dell, 
If  yet  in  veiling  mist  the  mimic  minions  dwell. 

Children  of  the  distance, 

Shall  I  call  in  vain  ? 
From  your  slumbers  waking, 

Speak  to  me  again 
As  erst  in  childhood  woke  your  soft  ^Eolian  strain! 

Hark!  the  wavy  chorus, 

Faint  and  far  away, 
Like  a  dream  returning 

In  the  light  of  day,  — 
Too  fond  to  flee;  alas!  too  timorous  to  stay! 

Hints  of  heavenly  voices, 
Tone  for  silvery  tone, 
Move  in  rarer  measures 


18 


Than  to  us  are  known, 
Still  wooing  hence  to  worlds  beyond  the  shadowy  zone. 

Pausing,  still  they  linger 

As  in  love's  delay, 
With  sibyllic  omen 

Seeming  thus  to  sayj 
"Of  all  the  vanished  Past,  we  Echoes  only  stay!  " 


PHOTOGRAPHED. 

FOR  years,  an  ever-shifting  shade 
The  sunshine  of  thy  visage  made; 
Then,  spider-like,  the  captive  caught 
In  meshes  of  immortal  thought. 

E'en  so,  with  half-averted  eye, 
Day  after  day  I  passed  thee  by, 
Till  suddenly,  a  subtler  art 
Enshrined  thee  in  my  heart  of  heart. 


20 


THE  HALF-RING  MOON. 

OVER  the  sea,  over  the  sea, 
My  love  he  is  gone  to  a  far  countrie  j 
But  he  brake  a  golden  ring  with  me 
The  pledge  of  his  faith  to  be. 

Over  the  sea,  over  the  sea, 
He  comes  no  more  from  the  far  countrie 5 
But  at  night,  where  the  new  moon  loved  to  be, 
Hangs  the  half  of  a  ring  for  me. 


21 


ENSHRINED. 

COME  quickly  in  and  close  the  door, 
For  none  hath  entered  here  before, 
The  secret  chamber  set  apart 
Within  the  cloister  of  the  heart. 

Tread  softly!     'Tis  the  Holy  Place 
Where  memory  meets  face  to  face 
A  sacred  sorrow,  felt  of  yore, 
But  sleeping  now  forevermore. 

It  cannot  die;  for  nought  of  pain, 
Its  fleeting  vesture,  doth  remain : 
Behold  upon  the  shrouded  eye 
The  seal  of  immortality ! 

Love  would  not  wake  it,  nor  efface 
Of  anguish  one  abiding  trace, 
Since  e'en  the  calm  of  heaven  were  less, 
Untouched  of  human  tenderness. 


22 


IN    MY   ORANGE-GROVE 

ORBS  of  Autumnal  beauty,  breathed  to  light 
From  blooms  of  May, 
Rounded  between  the  touch  of  lengthening  night 

And  lessening  day, 
Flushed  with  the  Summer  fulness  that  the  Spring 

(Fair  seer!)  foretold, 
The  circle  of  three  seasons  compassing 
In  spheres  of  gold. 


INTIMATIONS. 

I  KNEW  the  flowers  had  dreamed  of  you, 
And  hailed  the  morning  with  regret; 
For  all  their  faces  with  the  dew 
Of  vanished  joy  were  wet. 

I  knew  the  winds  had  passed  your  way, 
Though  not  a  sound  the  truth  betrayed; 

About  their  pinions  all  the  day 
A  summer  fragrance  stayed. 

And  so,  awaking  or  asleep, 

A  memory  of  lost  delight 
By  day  the  sightless  breezes  keep, 

And  silent  flowers  by  night. 


EVOLUTION. 

OUT  of  the  dusk  a  shadow, 
Then,  a  spark; 
Out  of  the  cloud  a  silence, 

Then,  a  lark; 
Out  of  the  heart  a  rapture, 

Then,  a  pain; 

Out  of  the  dead,  cold  ashes, 
Life  again. 


LOVE'S    HYBLA. 

MY  thoughts  fly  to  thee,  as  the  bees 
To  find  their  favorite  flower; 
Then  home,  with  honeyed  memories 
Of  many  a  fragrant  hour: 

For  with  thee  is  the  place  apart 
Where  sunshine  ever  dwells, 

The  Hybla,  whence  my  hoarding  heart 
Would  fill  its  wintry  cells. 


26 


WAYFARERS. 

O  COMRADE  Sun,  that  day  by  day 
Dost  weave  a  shadow  on  my  way, 
Lest,  in  the  luxury  of  light, 
My  soul  forget  the  neighboring  night:  — 
Wilt  thou  whene'er,  my  journey  done, 
Thou  wanderest  our  path  upon, 
Bear  in  thy  beams  a  memory 
Of  one  who  walked  the  world  with  thee, 
Or  mourn,  amid  the  lavishness 
Of  Life,  one  hovering  shade  the  less  ? 


THE  PEAK. 

AS  on  some  solitary  height 
Abides,  in  summer's  fierce  despite, 
Snow-blossom  that  no  sun  can  blight, 

No  frost  can  kill; 
So,  in  my  soul,  —  all  else  below 
To  change  succumbing,  —  stands  aglow 
One  wreath  of  immemorial  snow, 
Unscattered  still. 


THE  CAPTIVES. 

APART  forever  dwelt  the  twain, 
Save  for  one  oft-repeated  strain 
Wherein  what  Love  alone  could  say 
They  learned  and  lavished  day  by  day. 

Strangers  in  all  but  misery 
And  music's  hope-sustaining  tie, 
They  lived  and  loved  and  died  apart, 
But  soul  to  soul  and  heart  to  heart. 


29 


MY  PHOTOGRAPH. 

MY  sister  Sunshine  smiled  on  me, 
And  of  my  visage  wrought  a  shade. 
"  Behold,"  she  cried,  "the  mystery 
Of  which  thou  art  afraid ! 

"  For  Death  is  but  a  tenderness, 
A  shadow,  that  unclouded  Love 

Hath  fashioned  in  its  own  excess 
Of  radiance  from  above.  *  * 


BROTHERHOOD. 

KNEW  not  the  Sun,  sweet  Violet, 
The  while  he  gleaned  the  snow, 
That  thou  in  darkness  sepulchred, 

Wast  slumbering  below  ? 
Or  spun  a  splendor  of  surprise 
Around  him  to  behold  thee  rise  ? 

Saw  not  the  Star,  sweet  Violet, 

What  time  a  drop  of  dew 
Let  fall  his  image  from  the  sky 

Into  thy  deeper  blue  ? 
Nor  waxed  he  tremulous  and  dim 
When  rival  Dawn  supplanted  him  ? 

And  dreamest  thou,  sweet  Violet, 
That  I,  the  vanished  Star, 

The  Dewdrop,  and  the  morning  Sun, 
Thy  closest  kinsmen  are  — 

So  near  that,  waking  or  asleep, 

We  each  and  all  thine  image  keep  ? 


EVICTED. 

r  I  ^IME  shut  the  door,  and  turned  the  key} 
JL  And  here  in  darkness  (woe  is  me!) 

I  wait  and  call  in  vain: 

He  will  not  come  again ! 
I  had  but  stepped  beyond  the  light, 
And  on  the  threshold  of  the  night 

Turned  back  —  alas,  to  find 

Life's  portal  closed  behind! 

Breathless,  I  beat  the  ponderous  door: 
No  answer!     Silence  evermore, 

Remembering  what  has  been, 

Sits  desolate  within. 
The  Present  dead,  Futurity, 
Its  still-born  babe,  wakes  not  for  me: 

I  am  alone  at  last 

With  the  immortal  Past. 


GRIEF-SONG. 

NEW  grief,  new  tears;  — 
Brief  the  reign  of  sorrow; 
Clouds  that  gather  with  the  night 
Scatter  on  the  morrow. 

Old  grief,  old  tears;  — 
Come  and  gone  together; 

Not  a  fleck  upon  the  sky 
Telling  whence  or  whither. 

Old  grief,  new  tears  ;  — 
Deep  to  deep  is  calling: 

Life  is  but  a  passing  cloud 
Whence  the  rain  is  falling. 


RECOGNITION. 

AT  twilight,  on  the  open  sea> 
We  passed,  with  breath  of  melody  — 
A  song,  to  each  familiar,  sung 
In  accents  of  an  alien  tongue. 

We  could  not  see  each  other1  s  face, 
Nor  through  the  growing  darkness  trace 
Our  destinies}  but  brimming  eyes 
Betrayed  unworded  sympathies. 


34 


AN    INFLUENCE. 

I  SEE  thee, —  heaven's  unclouded  face 
A  vacancy  around  thee  made, 
Its  sunshine  a  subservient  grace 
Thy  lovelier  light  to  shade. 

I  feel  thee,  as  the  billows  feel 
A  river  freshening  the  brine; 

A  life's  libation  poured  to  heal 
The  bitterness  of  mine. 


35 


HELPMATES. 

SAYS  the  Land,  "  O  sister  Sea, 
HacTst  thou  not  borne  the  voyagers  to  me, 
Vain  were  their  visions  grand, 
And  I,  e'en  now,  perchance,  a  stranger-land: 
So,  thine  the  glory  be!  " 

Says  the  Sea,  "  Nay,  brother  Land} 
Had'st  thou  not  outward  stretched  the  saving  hand, 
My  bosom  now  had  kept 
The  secret  where  the  souls  heroic  slept  5 
'  Tis  in  thy  strength  they  stand ! ' ' 


TO  MY  SHADOW. 

FRIEND  forever  in  the  light 
Cleaving  to  my  side, 
Harbinger  of  endless  night 
That  must  soon  betide  j 

•'Hither,"  seemest  thou  to  say, 
"  From  the  twilight  now: 

In  the  darkness  when  I  stay, 
Never  thence  wilt  thou." 


37 


THE   LAKE. 

I  AM  a  lonely  woodland  lake: 
The  trees  that  round  me  grow, 
The  glimpse  of  heaven  above  me,  make 
The  sum  of  all  I  know. 

The  mirror  of  their  dreams  to  be 

Alike  in  shade  and  shine, 
To  clasp  in  Love's  captivity, 

And  keep  them  one  —  is  mine. 


THE  DAYSPRING. 

WHAT  hand  with  spear  of  light 
Hath  cleft  the  side  of  Night, 
And  from  the  red  wound  wide 
Fashioned  the  Dawn,  his  bride  ? 

Was  it  the  deed  of  Death  ? 
Nay;  but  of  Love,  that  saith, 
"  Henceforth  be  Shade  and  Sun, 
In  bonds  of  Beauty,  one." 


39 


THE  CHORD. 

IN  this  narrow  cloister  bound 
Dwells  a  Sisterhood  of  Sound, 
Far  from  alien  voices  rude 
As  in  secret  solitude 
Unisons,  that  yearned  apart, 
Here,  in  harmony  of  heart, 
Blend  divided  sympathies, 
And  in  choral  strength  arise, 
Like  the  cloven  tongues  of  fire, 
One  in  heavenly  desire. 


40 


COMPENSATION. 

HOW  many  an  acorn  falls  to  die 
For  one  that  makes  a  tree! 
How  many  a  heart  must  pass  me  by 
For  one  that  cleaves  to  me! 

How  many  a  suppliant  wave  of  sound 

Must  still  unheeded  roll, 
For  one  low  utterance  that  found 

An  echo  in  my  soul! 


VISIBLE  SOUND. 

AYE,  have  we  not  felt  it  and  known, 
Ere  Science  proclaimed  it  her  own, 
That  form  is  but  visible  tone  ? 

Behold,  where  in  silence  was  drowned 

The  last  fleeting  echo  of  sound, 

The  rainbow  —  its  blossom  —  is  found} 

While  anon,  with  a  verdurous  sweep 
From  the  mountain-side,  wooded  and  steep, 
Swells  the  chorus  of  deep  unto  deep, 

That  the  trumpet  flowers,  flame-flashing,  blow 
Till  the  lilies  enkindled  below 
Swoon  pale  into  passion,  like  snow! 

Yea,  Love,  of  sweet  Nature  the  Lord, 
Hath  fashioned  each  manifold  chord 
To  utter  His  visible  Word, 

Whose  work,  wheresoever  begun, 
Like  the  rays  floating  back  to  the  Sun, 
In  the  soul  of  all  beauty  is  one. 


TO  THE  SUMMER  WIND. 

ART  thou  the  selfsame  wind  that  blew 
When  I  was  but  a  boy  ? 
Thy  voice  is  like  the  voice  I  knew, 

And  yet  the  thrill  of  joy 
Has  softened  to  a  sadder  tone  — 
Perchance  the  echo  of  mine  own. 

Beside  a  sea  of  memories 

In  solitude  I  dwell: 
Upon  the  shore  forsaken  lies 

Alas!  no  murmuring  shell! 
Are  all  the  voices  lost  to  me 
Still  wandering  the  world  with  thee  ? 


43 


NARCISSUS. 

THE  god  enamoured  never  knew 
The  shadow  that  beguiled  his  view, 
Nor  deemed  it  less  divinely  true 
Than  Life  and  Love. 

And  so  the  poet,  while  he  wrought 
His  image  in  the  tide  of  thought, 
Deemed  it  a  glimpse  in  darkness  caught 
Of  light  above. 


44 


CHILDHOOD. 

OLD  Sorrow  I  shall  meet  again, 
And  Joy,  perchance  — •  but  never,  never, 
Happy  Childhood,  shall  we  twain 
See  each  other's  face  forever! 

And  yet  I  would  not  call  thee  back, 
Dear  Childhood,  lest  the  sight  of  me, 

Thine  old  companion,  on  the  rack 
Of  Age,  should  sadden  even  thee. 


45 


TO    AN    OLD    WASSAIL-CUP. 

WHERE  Youth  and  Laughter  lingered  long 
To  quaff  delight,  with  wanton  song 
And  warm  caress, 
Now  Time  and  Silence  strive  amain 
With  lips  unsatisfied,  to  drain 
Life's  emptiness! 


46 


FOUNTAIN-HEADS. 

ALIKE  from  depths  of  joy  and  sorrow  start 
The  rain-drops  of  the  heart : 
Alike  from  sweet  and  briny  waves  arise 

The  tear-drops  of  the  skies. 
And  back  to  earth  salt  tears  and  freshening  rain 
Alike  must  flow  again. 


47 


THE    REAPER. 

TELL  me  whither,  maiden  June, 
Down  the  dusky  slope  of  noon 
With  thy  sickle  of  a  moon, 
Goest  thou  to  reap. 

"  Fields  of  Fancy  by  the  stream 
Of  night  in  silvery  silence  gleam, 
To  heap  with  many  a  harvest-dream 
The  granary  of  Sleep. ' ' 


48 


THE    BUTTERFLY. 

T    EAFLESS,  stemless,  floating  flower, 

JLvFrom  a  rainbow's  scattered  bower, 

Like  a  bubble  of  the  air 

Blown  by  fairies,  tell  me  where 

Seed  or  scion  I  may  find 

Bearing  blossoms  of  thy  kind. 


49 


THE  STRANGER. 

HE  ENTERED;  but  the  mask  he  wore 
Concealed  his  face  from  me. 
Still,  something  I  had  seen  before 
He  brought  to  memory. 

"  Who  art  thou  ?     What  thy  rank,  thy  name  ? 

I  questioned,  with  surprise; 
"Thyself"  the  laughing  answer  came, 

"  As  seen  of  others'*  eyes." 


5° 


JOY. 

NEW-BORN,  how  long  to  stay ? 
The  while  a  dew-drop  may, 
Or  rainbow-gleam : 
One  kiss  of  sun  or  shade, 
And,  lo,  the  breath  that  made, 
Unmakes  the  dream ! 


REGRET. 

WHAT  pleading  passion  of  the  dark 
Hath  left  the  Morning  pale  ? 
She  listens!      "  ' T  is,  alas,  the  Lark, 

And  not  the  Nightingale ! 
O  for  the  gloom-encircled  sphere, 

Whose  solitary  bird 
Outpours  for  Love's  awakening  ear 
What  noon  hath  never  heard! " 


SLEEP. 

BLIND  art  thou  as  thy  mother  Night, 
And  as  thy  sister  Silence  dumb; 
But  naught  of  soothing  sound  or  sight 
Doth  unto  mortals  come 
So  tender  as  thy  fancied  glance 
And  dream -imagined  utterance. 


53 


YORICK'S  SKULL. 

POOR  jester!  still  upon  the  stage, 
Chap-fallen  flung, 
Where  merry  clowns  from  age  to  age 

Thy  dirge  have  sung; 
Yet  more  than  Eloquence  may  reach, 

Thought-heights  among: 
'T  is  thine,  humanity  to  teach, 
Sans  brains  or  tongue. 


54 


KEATS  — SAPPHO. 

METHINKS,  when  first  the  nightingale 
Was  mated  to  thy  deathless  song, 
That  Sappho  with  emotion  pale, 

Amid  the  Olympian  throng, 
Again,  as  in  the  Lesbian  grove, 
Stood  listening  with  lips  apart, 
To  hear  in  thy  melodious  love 
The  pantings  of  her  heart. 


55 


THE  BROOK. 

IT  is  the  mountain  to  the  sea 
That  makes  a  messenger  of  me: 
And,  lest  I  loiter  on  the  way 
And  lose  what  I  am  sent  to  say, 
He  sets  his  reverie  to  song 
And  bids  me  sing  it  all  day  long. 
Farewell!  for  here  the  stream  is  slow, 
And  I  have  many  a  mile  to  go. 


KILLDEE. 

TyTTLLDEE!   Killdee!  far  o'er  the  lea 
XvAt  twilight  comes  the  cry. 
Killdee!  a  marsh-mate  answereth 
Across  the  shallow  sky. 

Killdee!  Killdee!  thrills  over  me 

A  rhapsody  of  light, 
As  star  to  star  gives  utterance 

Between  the  day  and  night. 

Killdee!  Killdee!   O  Memory, 
The  twin  birds,  Joy  and  Pain, 

Like  shadows  parted  by  the  sun, 
At  twilight  meet  again ! 


57 


THE  MOCKING-BIRD. 

O  HE  ART  that  cannot  sleep  for  song! 
Behold,  I  wake  with  thee, 
And  drink,  as  from  a  fountain  strong, 

Thy  midnight  melody, 

That,  poured  upon  the  thirsting  silence,  seems 
Fresh  from  the  shade  of  dreams 

My  spirit,  like  the  sapless  bough 

Of  some  long-wintered  tree, 
Feels  suddenly  the  life  that  now 

Sets  all  thy  passion  free, 
And  flushed  as  in  the  wakening  strength  of  wine, 

Leaps  heavenward  with  thine. 


THE  HUMMING-BIRD. 

A   FLASH  of  harmless  lightning, 
jL\ A  mist  of  rainbow  dyes, 
The  burnished  sunbeams  brightening, 
From  flower  to  flower  he  flies : 

While  wakes  the  nodding  blossom, 

But  just  too  late  to  see 
What  lip  hath  touched  her  bosom 

And  drained  her  nectary. 


59 


THE  LARK. 

HE  rose,  and  singing  passed  from  sight 
A  shadow  kindling  with  the  sun, 
His  joy  ecstatic  flamed,  till  light 
And  heavenly  song  were  one. 


60 


THE  BLUEBIRD. 

* r  I  ^  IS  thine  the  earliest  song  to  sing 

J.    Of  welcome  to  the  wakening  spring, 
Who  round  thee,  as  a  blossom,  weaves 
The  fragrance  of  her  sheltering  leaves. 


61 


TO  A  WOOD-ROBIN. 

LO,  where  the  blooming  woodland  wakes 
From  wintry  slumbers  long, 
Thy  heart,  a  bud  of  silence,  breaks 
To  ecstasy  of  song. 


62 


BLOSSOM. 

FOR  this  the  fruit,  for  this  the  seed, 
For  this  the  parent  tree; 
The  least  to  man,  the  most  to  God  — 

A  fragrant  mystery 
Where  Love,  with  Beauty  glorified, 
Forgets  Utility. 


TO  A  ROSE. 

'T^HOU  hast  not  toiled,  sweet  Rose, 
X  Yet  needest  rest} 
Softly  thy  petals  close 

Upon  thy  breast, 
Like  folded  hands,  of  labor  long  oppressed. 

Naught  knowest  thou  of  sin, 

Yet  tears  are  thine  j 
Baptismal  drops  within 

Thy  chalice  shine, 
At  morning's  birth,  at  evening's  calm  decline. 

Alas!  one  day  hath  told 

The  tale  to  thee ! 
Thy  tender  leaves  enfold 

Life's  mystery: 
Its  shadow  falls  alike  on  thee  and  me! 


64 


THE  WATER-LILY. 

WHENCE,  O  fragrant  form  of  light, 
Hast  thou  drifted  through  the  night, 
Swanlike,  to  a  leafy  nest, 
On  the  restless  waves,  at  rest  ? 

Art  thou  from  the  snowy  zone 
Of  a  mountain-summit  blown, 
Or  the  blossoms  of  a  dream, 
Fashioned  in  the  foamy  stream  ? 

Nay 5  methinks  the  maiden  moon, 
When  the  daylight  came  too  soon, 
Fleeting  from  her  bath  to  hide, 
Left  her  garment  in  the  tide. 


THE  PLAINT  OF  THE  ROSE. 

SAID  the  budding  Rose,  "  All  night 
Have  I  dreamed  of  the  joyous  light: 
How  long  doth  my  lord  delay! 
Come,  Dawn,  and  kiss  from  mine  eyes  away 
The  dewdrops  cold  and  the  shadows  gray, 
That  hide  thee  from  my  sight! " 

Said  the  full-blown  Rose,  «  O  Light! 
(So  fair  to  the  dreamer' s  sight !) 

How  long  doth  the  dew  delay ! 
Come  back,  sweet  sister  shadows  gray, 
And  lead  me  home  from  the  world  away, 

To  the  calm  of  the  cloister  Night!" 


66 


THE    VIOLET    SPEAKS. 

THINK  not  yon  star, 
New-found  afar, 
Love's  latest  sign; 
Nor  fondly  dream 
No  fresher  beam 
Doth  on  thee  shines 
A  newer  light, 
From  longer  night 
Of  years,  is  mine* 


TO  THE  VIOLET. 

SWEET  violet,  who  knows 
From  whence  thy  fragrance  flows 
Or  whither  hence  it  goes  ? 

A  pious  pilgrim  here 
To  Winter1  s  sepulchre 
Thou  comest  year  by  year 

Alert  with  balmier  store 
Than  Magdalen  of  yore 
To  Love's  anointing  bore. 

Methinks  that  thou  hast  been 

So  oft  the  go-between 

'Twixt  sight  and  things  unseen 

That  with  thy  wafted  breath 

Alternate  echoeth 

Each  bank  of  sundering  Death, 


68 


GOLDEN-ROD. 

AS  Israel,  in  days  of  old, 
Beneath  the  prophet's  rod, 
Amid  the  waters,  backward  rolled, 

A  path  triumphant  trod; 
So,  while  thy  lifted  staff  appears, 

Her  pilgrim  steps  to  guide, 
The  Autumn  journeys  on,  nor  fears 
The  Winter' s  threatening  tide. 


69 


STAR-JESSAMINE. 
"PVISCERNING  Star  from  Sister  Star, 
LJ  We  give  to  each  its  name  5 
But  ye,  O  countless  Blossoms,  are 

In  fragrance  and  in  flame 
So  like,  that  He  from  whom  ye  came 
Alone  discerneth  each  by  name. 


THE  DANDELION. 

WITH  locks  of  gold  to-day; 
To-morrow,  silver  gray; 
Then  blossom-bald.      Behold, 
O  man,  thy  fortune  told! 


FERN   SONG. 

DANCE  to  the  beat  of  the  rain,  little  Fern, 
And  spread  out  your  palms  again, 

And  say,  "  Tho"*  the  sun 

Hath  my  vesture  spun, 
He  had  labored,  alas,  in  vain, 

But  for  the  shade 

That  the  Cloud  hath  made, 
And  the  gift  of  the  Dew  and  the  Rain." 

Then  laugh  and  upturn 

All  your  fronds,  little  Fern, 
And  rejoice  in  the  beat  of  the  rain ! 


72 


AUTUMN    GOLD. 

DEATH  in  the  house,  and  the  golden-rod 
A-bloom  in  the  field! 
O  blossom,  how,  from  the  lifeless  clod, 
When  the  fires  are  out  and  the  ashes  cold, 
Doth  a  vein  that  the  miners  know  not,  yield 
Such  wealth  of  gold  ? 


73 


AUTUMN    SONG. 

MY  life  is  but  a  leaf  upon  the  tree  — 
A  growth  upon  the  stem  that  feedeth  all. 
A  touch  of  frost  —  and  suddenly  I  fall, 
To  follow  where  my  sister-blossoms  be. 

The  selfsame  sun,  the  shadow,  and  the  rain, 
That  brought  the  budding  verdure  to  the  bough, 
Shall  strip  the  fading  foliage  as  now, 
And  leave  the  limb  in  nakedness  again. 

My  life  is  but  a  leaf  upon  the  treej 
The  winds  of  birth  and  death  upon  it  blow; 
But  whence  it  came  and  whither  it  shall  go, 
Is  mystery  of  mysteries  to  me. 


74 


INDIAN  SUMMER. 

1/T^IS  said,  in  death,  upon  the  face 

JL  Of  Age,  a  momentary  trace 
Of  Infancy's  returning  grace 

Forestalls  decay  j 

And  here,  in  Autumn's  dusky  reign, 
A  birth  of  blossom  seems  again 
To  flush  the  woodland's  fading  train 
With  dreams  of  May. 


DECEMBER. 

DULL  sky  above,  dead  leaves  below; 
And  hungry  winds  that  whining  go. 
Like  faithful  hounds  upon  the  track 
Of  one  beloved  that  comes  not  back. 


AT   THE   YEAR'S    END. 

NIGHT  dreams  of  day,  and  winter  seems 
In  sleep  to  breathe  the  balm  of  May. 
Their  dreams  are  true  anon  5  but  they, 
The  dreamers,  then,  alas,  are  dreams. 

Thus,  while  our  days  the  dreams  renew 

Of  some  forgotten  sleeper,  we, 

The  dreamers  of  futurity, 

Shall  vanish  when  our  own  are  true. 


77 


THE  CHRISTMAS  BABE. 

SO  small  that  lesser  lowliness 
Must  bow  to  worship  or  caress; 
So  great  that  heaven  itself  to  know 
Love's  majesty  must  look  below. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

Tis  Christmas  night!  the  snow, 
A  flock  unnumbered  lies: 
The  old  Judean  stars  aglow, 
Keep  watch  within  the  skies. 

An  icy  stillness  holds 

The  pulses  of  the  night: 
A  deeper  mystery  infolds 

The  wondering  Hosts  of  Light. 

Till,  lo,  with  reverence  pale 

That  dims  each  diadem, 
The  lordliest,  earthward  bending,  hail 

The  Light  of  Bethlehem ! 


OUT    OF   BOUNDS. 

A  LITTLE  Boy  of  heavenly  birth, 
JTA-But  far  from  home  to-day, 
Comes  down  to  find  His  ball,  the  Earth, 

That  Sin  has  cast  away. 
O  comrades,  let  us  one  and  all 
Join  in  to  get  Him  back  His  ball! 


MISTLETOE. 

TO  the  cradle-bough  of  a  naked  tree, 
Benumbed  with  ice  and  snow, 
A  Christmas  dream  brought  suddenly 
A  birth  of  mistletoe. 

The  shepherd  stars  from  their  fleecy  cloud 
Strode  out  on  the  night  to  see; 

The  Herod  north-wind  blustered  loud 
To  rend  it  from  the  tree. 

But  the  old  year  took  it  for  a  sign, 

And  blessed  it  in  his  heart: 
"With  prophecy  of  peace  divine, 

Let  now  my  soul  depart." 


81 


EASTER. 

LIKE  a  meteor,  large  and  bright, 
Fell  a  golden  seed  of  light 
On  the  field  of  Christmas  night 

When  the  Babe  was  born; 
Then  'twas  sepulchred  in  gloom 
Till  above  His  holy  tomb 
Flashed  its  everlasting  bloom  — 
Flower  of  Easter  morn. 


EASTER  LILIES. 

"CHOUGH  long  in  wintry  sleep  ye  lay, 
JL  The  powers  of  darkness  could  not  stay 
Your  coming  at  the  call  of  day, 

Proclaiming  spring. 

Nay;  like  the  faithful  virgins  wise, 
With  lamps  replenished  ye  arise, 
Ere  dawn  the  death-anointed  eyes 
Of  Christ,  the  king. 


RESURRECTION. 

A   LL  that  springeth  from  the  sod 
l\Tendeth  upwards  unto  Godj 
All  that  cometh  from  the  skies 
Urging  it  anon  to  rise. 

Winter's  life-delaying  breath 
Leaveneth  the  lump  of  death, 
Till  the  frailest  fettered  bloom 
Moves  the  earth,  and  bursts  the  tomb. 

Welcome,  then,  Time's  threshing-pain 
And  the  furrows  where  each  grain, 
Like  a  Samson,  blossom-shorn, 
Waits  the  resurrection  morn. 


AWAKENING. 

DO  they  that  sleep,  O  Blossoms,  yearn, 
When  ye  from  them  to  us  return, 
Again  with  you  to  rise  ? 
Or  do  they  in  your  quickening  breath 
Speak  to  us  from  the  shades  of  death, 
And  see  us  with  your  eyes  ? 


EARTH'S   TRIBUTE. 

FIRST  the  grain,  and  then  the  blade  - 
The  one  destroyed,  the  other  madej 
Then  stalk  and  blossom,  and  again 
The  gold  of  newly  minted  grain. 

So  Life,  by  Death  the  reaper  cast 
To  earth,  again  shall  rise  at  last; 
For  'tis  the  service  of  the  sod 
To  render  God  the  things  of  God. 


86 


THE  RECOMPENSE. 

SHE  brake  the  box,  and  all  the  house  was  filled 
With  waftures  from  the  fragrant  store  thereof, 
While  at  His  feet  a  costlier  vase  distilled 
The  bruised  balm  of  penitential  love. 

And,  lo,  as  if  in  recompense  of  her, 

Bewildered  in  the  lingering  shades  of  night, 

He  breaks  anon  the  sealed  sepulchre, 

And  fills  the  world  with  rapture  and  with  light. 


RABBONI! 

"  T  BRING  Thee  balm,  and,  lo,  Thou  art  not  here! 
A  Twice  have   I  poured  mine  ointment  on  Thy 

brow, 
And  washed  Thy  feet  with  tears.      Disdain' st  Thou 

now 
The  spikenard  and  the  myrrh  ? 

Has  Death,  alas,  betrayed  Thee  with  a  kiss 
That  seals  Thee  from  the  memory  of  mine  ?*' 
"  Mary!  "     It  is  the  self-same  Voice  Divine. 

«  Rabboni!  " —  only  this. 


88 


TO  THE  CHRIST. 

THOU  hast  on  earth  a  Trinity,  — 
Thyself,  my  fellow-man,  and  me  5 
When  one  with  him,  then  one  with  Thee  5 
Nor,  save  together,  Thine  are  we. 


THE    IMMACULATE    CONCEPTION. 

A  DEW-DROP  of  the  darkness  born, 
Wherein  no  shadow  liesj 
The  blossom  of  a  barren  thorn, 

Whereof  no  petal  dies  5 
A  rainbow  beauty  passion-free, 
Wherewith  was  veiled  Divinity. 


90 


THE  ANNUNCIATION. 

T!"—  The  flaming  word 
Flashed,  as  the  brooding  Bird 
Uttered  the  doom  far  heard 
Of  Death  and  Night. 

<  <  Fiat!" — A  cloistered  womb  — 
A  sealed,  untainted  tomb  — 
Wakes  to  the  birth  and  bloom 
Of  Life  and  Light. 


THE  INCARNATION. 

SAVE  through  the  flesh  Thou  wouldst  not  come 
to  me  — 

The  flesh,  wherein  Thy  strength  my  weakness  found 
A  weight  to  bow  Thy  Godhead  to  the  ground, 
And  lift  to  Heaven  a  lost  humanity. 


92 


THE  ASSUMPTION. 

NOR  Bethlehem  nor  Nazareth 
Apart  from  Mary's  care; 
Nor  heaven  itself  a  home  for  Him 
Were  not  His  mother  there. 


93 


MAGDALEN.     (AFTER  SWINBURNE.) 
RE  hath  done  what  she  could." 
was  thus  that  He  spake  of  her, 
Trembling  and  pale  as  the  penitent  stood. 
"  And  this  she  hath  done  shall  be  told  for  the  sake 

of  her, 

Told  as  embalmed  in  the  gift  that  I  take  of  her, 
Take,  as  an  earnest  of  all  that  she  would 
Who  hath  done  what  she  could. 

"She  hath  done  what  she  could: 
Lo,  the  flame  that  hath  driven  her 

Downward,  is  quenched!  and  her  grief  like  a  flood 
In  the  strength  of  a  rain-swollen  torrent  hath  shriven 

her: 
Much  hath  she  loved  and  much  is  forgiven  herj 

Love  in  the  longing  fulfils  what  it  would  — 

She  hath  done  what  she  could." 


94 


ABSOLVED. 

FAR  floating  o'er  its  native  fen, 
The  evening  Cloud,  like  Magdalen  — 

Her  penitential  tears 
Assuaged  of  Love,  her  sins  forgiven  — 
Upborne  upon  a  waveless  heaven 
Of  radiant  rest,  appears. 


THE  PRECURSOR. 


ts  A  s  Jolm 

JL\ 


To  make  the  rough  ways  smooth,  that  all  might 
know 

The  level  road  that  leads  to  Bethlehem,  lo, 
I  come/'  proclaims  the  snow. 


SON    OF   MARY. 

SHE  the  mother  was  of  One  — 
Christ,  her  Saviour  and  her  Son. 
And  another  had  she  none  ? 
Yea:  her  Love's  beloved  —  John. 


CHRIST  TO  THE  VICTIM -TREE, 

SOON,  but  not  alone  to  die, 
Kinsman  Tree, 
Limbed  and  leafless  must  thou  lie, 

Doomed,  alas,  for  Mej 
Yea,  for  Me,  as  I  for  all, 
Must  thou  first  a  victim  fall. 

Thou  for  me  the  bitter  fruit 

Loth  to  bear, 
Must  of  Death's  accursed  root 

Shame  reluctant  share. 
Thus  the  Father's  will  divine 
Seals  thy  fate  to  compass  Mine. 


98 


ANGELS  OF  PAIN. 

AH,  should  they  come  revisiting  the  spot 
Whence  by  our  prayers  we  drove  them  utterly, 
Shame  were  it  for  their  saddened  eyes  to  see 
How  soon  their  visitations  are  forgot. 


99 


A  LENTEN  THOUGHT. 

ALONE  with  Thee,  who  canst  not  be  alone, 
At  midnight,  in  Thine  everlasting  dayj 
Lo,  less  than  naught,  of  nothingness  undone, 
I,  prayerless,  pray! 

Behold  —  and  with  Thy  bitterness  make  sweet, 

What  sweetest  is  in  bitterness  to  hide  — 
Like  Magdalen,  I  grovel  at  Thy  feet, 
In  lowly  pride. 

Smite,  till  my  wounds  beneath  Thy  scourging  cease; 

Soothe,  till  my  heart  in  agony  hath  bledj 
Nor  rest  my  soul  with  enmity  at  peace, 
Till  Death  be  dead.  ' 


100 


"IS  THY  SERVANT  A  DOG?" 

SO  must  he  be  who,  in  the  crowded  street, 
Where  shameless  Sin  and  flauut:j?g  Pleasure 
Amid  the  noisome  footprints  finds  the  sweet 
Faint  vestige  of  Thy  feet. 


TOI 


HOLY 

where  apart  the  fallen  sparrow  lies, 
^tly  tread^. ? 
For  there  the  pity  of  a  Father's  eyes 
Enshrines  the  dead. 


102 


THE   PLAYMATES. 

WHO  are  thy  playmates,  boy  i* 
"My  favorite  is  Joy, 

Who  brings  with  him  his  sister,  Peace,  to  stay 
The  livelong  day. 
I  love  them  both}  but  he 
Is  most  to  me.'' 

And  where  thy  playmates  now, 

O  man  of  sober  brow  ? 

"  Alas!  dear  Joy,  the  merriest,  is  dead. 

But  I  have  wed 

Peace;  and  our  babe,  a  boy, 

New-born,  is  Joy." 


103 


TO  THE  BABE  NIVA. 

NIVA,  Child  of  Innocence, 
Dust  to  dust  <we  go : 
Thou,  when  Winter  wooed  thee  hence, 
Wentest  snow  to  snow. 


104 


A  PHONOGRAPH. 

HARK  I  what  his  fellow- warblers  heard 
And  uttered  in  the  light, 
Their  phonograph,  the  mocking-bird, 
Repeats  to  them  at  night. 


A  CRADLE-SONG. 

SING  it,  Mother!  sing  it  low: 
Deem  it  not  an  idle  lay. 
In  the  heart  "t  will  ebb  and  flow 
All  the  life-long  way. 

Sing  it,  Mother!  softly  sing, 

While  he  slumbers  on  thy  kneej 

All  that  after-years  may  bring 
Shall  flow  back  to  thee. 

Sing  it,  Mother,  Love  is  strong  1 
When  the  tears  of  manhood  fall, 

Echoes  of  thy  cradle-song 
Shall  its  peace  recall. 

Sing  it,  Mother!  when  his  ear 
Catcheth  first  the  Voice  Divine, 

Dying,  he  may  smile  to  hear 
What  he  deemeth  thine. 


106 


CONFIDED. 

ANOTHER  lamb,  O  Lamb  of  God,  behold, 
Within  this  quiet  fold, 
Among  Thy  Father's  sheep 
I  lay  to  sleep ! 

A  heart  that  never  for  a  night  did  rest 
Beyond  its  mother's  breast. 
Lord,  keep  it  close  to  Thee, 
Lest  waking  it  should  bleat  and  pine  for  me! 


107 


THE  TAX-GATHERER. 
"   A   ND  pray,  who  are  you  ? 

/jLSaid  the  violet  blue 
To  the  Bee,  with  surprise 
At  his  wonderful  size, 
In  her  eye-glass  of  dew. 

"I,  madam,"  quoth  he, 

"  Am  a  publican  Bee, 

Collecting  the  tax 

On  honey  and  wax. 

Have  you  nothing  for  me?" 


1 08 


BABY. 

BABY  in  her  slumber  smiling, 
Doth  a  captive  take: 

Whispers  Love,  "From  dreams  beguiling 
May  she  never  wake! " 

When  the  lids,  like  mist  retreating, 

Flee  the  azure  deep, 
Wakes  a  newborn  Joy,  repeating, 

"  May  she  never  sleep!  " 


109 


BABY'S    DIMPLES. 

LOVE  goes  playing  hide-and-seek 
Mid  the  roses  on  her  cheek, 
With  a  little  imp  of  Laughter, 
Who,  the  while  he  follows  after, 
Leaves  the  footprints  that  we  trace 
All  about  the  Kissing-place. 


no 


A  BUNCH  OF  ROSES. 

THE  rosy  mouth  and  rosy  toe 
Of  little  baby  brother, 
Until  about  a  month  ago 

Had  never  met  each  other; 
But  nowadays  the  neighbors  sweet, 

In  every  sort  of  weather, 
Half  way  with  rosy  fingers  meet, 
To  kiss  and  play  together. 


THE  NEW-YEAR  BABE. 

TWO  together,  Babe  and  Year. 
At  the  midnight  chime, 
Through  the  darkness  drifted  here 
To  the  coast  of  Time. 

Two  together,  Babe  and  Year, 

Over  night  and  day 
Crossed  the  desert  Winter  drear 

To  the  land  of  May. 

On  together,  Babe  and  Year, 

Swift  to  Summer  passed; 
"Rest  a  moment,  Brother  dear,'* 

Said  the  Babe  at  last. 

"Nay,  but  onward;"   answered  Year, 

"  We  must  farther  go: 
Through  the  Vale  of  Autumn  sere 

To  the  Mount  of  Snow." 

Toiling  upward,  Babe  and  Year 
Climbed  the  frozen  height. 

"  We  may  rest  together  here, 
Brother  Babe  —  Good-night ! " 

Then  together  Babe  and  Year 

Slept:  but  ere  the  dawn, 
Vanishing,  I  know  not  where, 

Brother  Year  was  gone  I 

112 


MILTON. 

SO  fair  thy  vision  that  the  night 
Abided  with  thee,  lest  the  light, 
A  flaming  sword  before  thine  eyes, 
Had  shut  thee  out  from  Paradise. 


TO  SHELLEY. 

AT  Shelley's  birth, 
The  Lark,  dawn-spirit,  with  an  anthem  loud 
Rose  from  the  dusky  earth 
To  tell  it  to  the  Cloud, 

That,  like  a  flower  night-folded  in  the  gloom, 
Burst  into  morning  bloom. 

At  Shelley's  death, 
The  Sea,  that  deemed  him  an  immortal,  saw 

A  god's  extinguished  breath, 

And  landward,  as  in  awe, 
Upbore  him  to  the  altar  whence  he  came, 

And  the  rekindling  flame. 


114 


SAPPHO. 

ALIGHT  upon  the  headland,  flaming  far, 
We  see  thee  o'er  the  widening  waves  of  time, 
Impassioned  as  a  palpitating  star, 

Big  with  prophetic  destiny  sublime: 
A  momentary  flash  —  a  burst  of  song  — 

Then  silence,  and  a  withering  blank  of  pain. 
We  wait,  alas!  in  tedious  vigils  long, 

The  meteor-gleam  that  cometh  not  again ! 
Our  eyes  are  heavy,  and  our  visage  wan: 

Our  breath  —  a  phantom  of  the  darkness  —  glides 
Ghostlike  to  swell  the  dismal  caravan 

Of  shadows,  where  thy  lingering  splendor  hides, 
Till,  with  our  tears  and  ineffectual  sighs, 

We  quench  the  spark  a  smouldering  hope  supplies. 


115 


TO  SIDNEY  LANIER. 

THE  dewdrop  holds  the  heaven  above, 
Wherein  a  lark,  unseen, 
Outpours  a  rhapsody  of  love 
That  fills  the  space  between. 

My  heart  a  dewdrop  is,  and  thou, 

Dawn -spirit,  far  away, 
Fillest  the  void  between  us  now 

With  an  immortal  lay. 


116 


ON    THE     FORTHCOMING     VOLUME     OF 
SIDNEY   LANIER'S    POEMS. 

SNOW!  Snow!  Snow! 
Do  thy  worst,  Winter,  but  know,  but  know 
That,  when  the  Spring  cometh,  a  blossom  shall  blow 
From  the  heart  of  the  Poet  that  sleeps  below, 
And  his  name  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  shall  go, 
In  spite  of  the  snow ! 


117 


FATHER  DAMIEN. 

OGOD,  the  cleanest  offering 
Of  tainted  earth  below, 
Unblushing  to  thy  feet  we  bring 
( ( A  leper  white  as  snow  ! ' ' 


Tl8 


THE  SNOWDROP. 

NUN  of  Winter's  sisterhood/' 
A  Snowdrop  in  the  garden  stood 
Alone  amid  the  solitude 
That  round  her  lay. 

No  sister  blossom  there  was  seen; 
No  memory  of  what  had  been; 
No  promise  of  returning  green, 
Or  scented  spray: 

But  she  alone  was  bold  to  bear 
The  banner  of  the  Spring,  and  dare, 
In  Winter's  stern  despite,  declare 
A  gentler  sway. 

So  didst  thou,  Damien,  when  the  glow 
Of  faith  and  hope  was  waning  low, 
For  souls  bewintered  dare  the  snow, 
And  lead  the  way. 


119 


QUATRAINS. 


"FOR    THE    RAIN    IT    RAINETH    EVERY 
DAY." 

>Y,  every  day  the  rain  doth  fall, 
And  every  day  doth  rise: 
'T  is  thus  the  heavens  incessant  call, 

,And  thus  the  earth  replies. 


123 


THE  MAST. 

THE  winds  that  once  my  playmates  were 
No  more  my  voice  responsive  hear, 
Nor  know  me,  naked  now  and  dumb, 
When  o'er  my  wandering  way  they  come. 


124 


A    STONE'S   THROW. 

LO,  Death  another  pebble  far  doth  fling 
Into  the  midmost  sea, 
To  leave  of  Life  an  ever-widening  ring 
Upon  Eternity. 


125 


LOVE'S    AUTOGRAPH. 

ONCE  only  did  he  pass  my  way. 
"  When  wilt  thou  come  again  ? 
Ah,  leave  some  token  of  thy  stay!" 
He  wrote  (and  vanished)  "Pain.1* 


126 


RENEWAL. 

EACH  Hagar  month  beholds  her  waning  moon 
Upon  the  desert  night, 
Like  Ishmael,  a  famished  wanderer,  swoon 
From  darkness  into  light. 


127 


PREJUDICE. 

A   LEAF  may  hide  the  largest  star 
l\From  Love's  uplifted  eye; 
A  mote  of  prejudice  out-bar 
A  world  of  Charity. 


128 


THE  BUBBLE. 

WHY  should  I  stay  ?    Nor  seed  nor  fruit  have  I. 
But,  sprung  at  once  to  beauty's  perfect  round, 
Nor  loss,  nor  gain,  nor  change  in  me  is  found,  — 
A  life-complete  in  death-complete  to  die. 


129 


CTERSPENT. 

MY  soul  is  as  a  fainting  noonday  star, 
And  thou,  the  absent  night} 
Haste,  that  thy  healing  shadow  from  afar 
May  touch  me  into  light. 


130 


IMAGINATION. 

HERE  Fancy  far  outdoes  the  deed; 
So  hath  Eternity  the  need 
Of  telling  more  than  Time  has  taught 
To  fill  the  boundaries  of  Thought. 


RUIN. 

A  POWER  beyond  Perfection's  dream  is  thine, 
A  shadow  that  the  dwindling  shape  outgrows 
Of  substance,  like  a  vast  horizon-line 
Receding  as  the  Fancy  onward  goes. 


132 


BECALMED. 

HPHE  bar  is  crossed:  but  Death  —  the  pilot  —  stands 

-L  In  seeming  doubt  before  the  tranquil  deepj 
The  fathom-line  still  trembling  in  his  hands, 
As  when  upon  the  treacherous  shoals  of  sleep. 


TO  THE  SPHINX. 

AH,  not  alone  in  Egypt's  desert  land 
Thy  dwelling-place  apart  ! 
But  wheresoever  the  scorching  passion-sand 
Hath  seared  the  human  heart. 


DISCREPANCY. 

ONE  dream  the  bird  and  blossom  dreamed 
Of  Love,  the  whole  night  long; 
Yet  twain  its  revelation  seemed, 
In  fragrance  and  in  song. 


'35 


POETRY. 

A  GLEAM  of  heaven;  the  passion  of  a  Star 
Held  captive  in  the  clasp  of  harmony: 
A  silence,  shell-like  breathing  from  afar 
The  rapture  of  the  deep, —  eternity. 


SAP. 

STRONG  as  the  sea,  and  silent  as  the  grave, 
It  ebbs  and  flows  unseen  5 
Flooding  the  earth  —  a  fragrant  tidal  wave  — 
With  mist  of  deepening  green. 


SLEEP. 

WHAT  art  thou,  balmy  sleep  ? 
"  Foam  from  the  fragrant  deep 
Of  silence,  hither  blown 
From  the  hushed  waves  of  tone." 


138 


THE  PYRAMIDS. 

AMID  the  desert  of  a  mystic  land, 
Like  Sibyls  waiting  for  a  doom  far-seen, 
Apart  in  awful  solitude  they  stand, 

With  Thought's  unending  caravan  between. 


139 


FORMATION. 

WHATEVER  we  love  becomes  of  us  a  part; 
The  centre  of  all  tributary  powers  — 
Our  life  is  fed  from  Nature's  throbbing  heart, 
And  of  her  best  the  fibred  growth  is  ours. 


140 


THE  PROMONTORY. 

NOT  all  the  range  of  sea-born  liberty 
Hath  ever  for  one  restless  wave  sufficed: 
So  pants  the  heart,  —  of  all  compulsion  free, 
Self-driven  to  the  Rock,  its  barrier,  Christ. 


141 


STARS. 

BEHOLD,  upon  the  field  of  Night, 
Far-scattered  seeds  of  golden  light; 
Nor  one  to  wither,  but  anon 
To  bear  the  heaven-full  harvest,  Dawn. 


142 


WHISPER. 

CLOSE  cleaving  unto  Silence,  into  sound 
She  ventures  as  a  timorous  child  from  land, 
Still  glancing,  at  each  wary  step,  around, 
Lest  suddenly  she  lose  her  sister's  hand. 


THE  SUN. 

HE  prisons  many  a  life  indeed 
Within  the  narrow  cells  of  seed, 
But  cannot  call  them  forth  again 
Without  the  sesame  of  rain. 


144 


THE  SUNBEAM. 

A   LADDER  from  the  Land  of  Light, 
£\  I  rest  upon  the  sod, 
Whence  dewy  angels  of  the  Night 
Climb  back  again  to  God. 


ALTER  EGO. 

THOU  art  to  me  as  is  the  sea 
Unto  the  shell; 

A  life  whereof  I  breathe,  a  love 
Wherein  I  dwell. 


146 


REFLECTION. 

LIKE  stars  that  in  the  waves  below 
With  heaven's  reflected  splendor  glow, 
The  flowers,  in  all  their  glory  bright, 
Are  shadows  of  a  fairer  light. 


ESTRANGEMENT. 

WHAT  kindly  Absence  hid,  forsooth, 
Thy  Presence  late  hath  shown} 
That,  like  a  garment  worn  in  youth, 
I  am,  alas,  outgrown! 


148 


BEETHOVEN  AND  ANGELO. 

ONE  made  the  surging  sea  of  tone 
Subservient  to  his  rod: 
One,  from  the  sterile  womb  of  stone, 
Raised  children  unto  God. 


THE  SHADOW. 

O  SHADOW,  in  thy  fleeting  form  I  see 
The  friend  of  fortune  that  once  clung  to  me. 
In  flattering  light,  thy  constancy  is  shown  5 
In  darkness,  thou  wilt  leave  me  all  alone. 


150 


SONNETS. 


THE  INDIAN  OF  SAN  SALVADOR. 

!HAT  time  the  countless  arrow-heads 
•of  light 

Keen  twinkled  on  the  bended  heavens, 
'back-drawn 
With  deadly  aim,  at  signal  of  the  Dawn, 
To  slay  the  slumbering,  dusky  warrior,  Night ; 
I  dreamed  a  dream:  And,  lo!  three  spirits,  white 
As  mist  that  gathers  when  the  rain  is  gone, 
Came  walking  o'er  the  waters,  whereupon 
The  very  waves  seemed  quivering  with  affright. 
I  woke  and  heard,  while  yet  the  vision  stayed, 

A  prophecy:   "Behold  the  coming  race 
Before  whose  feet  the  forest  kings  shall  fall 

Prostrate  5  and  ye,  like  twilight  shadows  tall 
That  wither  at  the  sun's  uplifted  face, 
Shall  pass  in  silence  to  a  deeper  shade." 


153 


KEATS. 

UPON  thy  tomb  "t  is  graven,  "  Here  lies  one 
Whose  name  is  writ  in  water."     Could  there  be 
A  flight  of  Fancy  fitlier  feigned  for  thee, 
A  fairer  motto  for  her  favorite  son  ? 
For,  as  the  wave,  thy  varying  numbers  run  — 
Now  crested  proud  in  tidal  majesty, 
Now  tranquil  as  the  twilight  reverie 
Of  some  dim  lake  the  white  moon  looks  upon 

While  teems  the  world  with  silence.      Even  there, 
In  each  Protean  rainbow-tint  that  stains 

The  breathing  canvas  of  the  atmosphere, 
We  read  an  exhalation  of  thy  strains. 

Thus,  on  the  scroll  of  Nature,  everywhere, 
Thy  name,  a  deathless  syllable,  remains. 


54 


SILENCE. 

r~pEMPLE  of  God,  from  all  eternity 
A  Alone  like  Him  without  beginning  found} 
Of  time  and  space  and  solitude  the  bound, 

Yet  in  thyself  of  all  communion  free. 

Is,  then,  the  temple  holier  than  He 

That  dwells  therein  ?     Must  reverence  surround 
With  barriers  the  portal,  lest  a  sound 

Profane  it?     Nay j  behold  a  mystery! 

What  was,  abides;  what  is,  hath  ever  been: 

The  lowliest  the  loftiest  sustains. 
A  silence,  by  no  breath  of  utterance  stirred  — 

Virginity  in  motherhood  —  remains, 
Clear,  midst  a  cloud  of  all-pervading  sin, 

The  voice  of  Love's  unutterable  word. 


155 


UNUTTERED. 

WAITING  for  words  —  as  on  the  broad  expanse 
Of  heaven  the  formless  vapors  of  the  night, 
Expectant,  wait  the  oracle  of  light 
Interpreting  their  dumb  significance; 
Or  like  a  star  that  in  the  morning  glance 

Shrinks,  like  a  folding  blossom,  from  the  sight, 
Nor  wakens  till  upon  the  western  height 
The  shadows  to  their  evening  towers  advance  — 

So,  in  my  soul,  a  dream  ineffable, 

Expectant  of  the  sunshine  or  the  shade, 

Hath  oft,  upon  the  brink  of  twilight  chill, 

Or  at  the  dawn^s  pale  glimmering  portal  stayed 

In  tears,  that  all  the  quivering  eyelids  fill, 
In  smiles,  that  on  the  lip  of  silence  fade. 


156 


SOLITUDE. 

THOU  wast  to  me  what  to  the  changing  year 
Its  seasons  are,  — a  joy  forever  new; 
What  to  the  night  its  stars,  its  heavenly  dew, 
Its  silence;  what  to  dawn  its  lark-song  clear; 
To  noon,  its  light  —  its  fleckless  atmosphere, 
Where  ocean  and  the  overbending  blue, 
In  passionate  communion,  hue  for  hue, 
As  one  in  Love's  circumference  appear. 

O  brimming  heart,  with  tears  for  utterance 
Alike  of  joy  and  sorrow!  lift  thine  eyes 

And  sphere  the  desolation.      Love  is  flown; 
And  in  the  desert's  widening  expanse 

Grim  Silence,  like  a  sepulchre  of  stone, 
Stands  enamelling  a  soul's  funereal  sighs. 


'57 


LOVE'S    RETROSPECT. 

I   KNEW  that  he  was  dying j  for  the  leaves 
Late-fallen,  shivered  on  the  frosty  ground, 
Disconsolate,  with  the  foreboding  sound 
That  Autumn  whispers  to  the  hearts  that  grieves. 
The  sunshine,  slanting  upward,  smote  the  sheaves 
Overshadowing  the  hill-tops  ranged  around, 
And  where  the  swallow's  empty  nest  was  found, 
Spattered,  as  if  with  blood,  the  sheltering  eves. 

Twin  fires  together  faded:  and  but  one 
Rewakened  o'er  a  world  henceforth  to  me 
In  evetlasting  twilight.      To  the  Past 

The  Present  pays  its  tribute,  whereupon 
Each  moment  coins  the  selfsame  effigy,  — 
The  more  than  all  by  wealth  unwidowed  cast 


158 


A    WINTER    TWILIGHT. 

BLOOD-SHOTTEN  through  the  bleak  gigantic 
trees 

The  sunset,  o'er  a  wilderness  of  snow, 
Startles  the  wolfish  winds  that  wilder  grow 
As  hunger  mocks  their  howling  miseries. 
In  every  skulking  shadow  Fancy  sees 
The  menace  of  an  undiscovered  foe  — 
A  sullen  footstep,  treacherous  and  slow, 
That  comes,  or  into  deeper  darkness  flees. 

Nor  Day  nor  Night,  in  Time's  eternal  round 
Whereof  the  tides  are  telling,  e1  er  hath  passed 

This  Isthmus-hour  —  this  dim,  mysterious  land 
That  sets  their  lives  asunder  —  where  up-cast 

Their  earliest  and  their  latest  waves  resound, 
As  each,  alternate,  nears  or  leaves  the  strand. 


'59 


GLIMPSES. 

AS  one  who  in  the  hush  of  twilight  hears 
The  pausing  pulse  of  Nature,  when  the  Light 
Commingles  in  the  dim  mysterious  rite 
Of  Darkness  with  the  mutual  pledge  of  tears, 
Till  soft,  anon,  one  timorous  star  appears, 
Pale-budding  as  the  earliest  blossom  white 
That  comes  in  Winter's  livery  bedight, 
To  hide  the  gifts  of  genial  Spring  she  bears,  — 

So,  unto  me  —  what  time  the  mysteries 

Of  consciousness  and  slumber  weave  a  dream 

And  pause  above  it  with  abated  breath, 
Like  intervals  in  music  —  lights  arise, 

Beyond  prophetic  Nature's  farthest  gleam, 
That  teach  me  half  the  mystery  of  Death. 


160 


THE    AGONY. 

I  WRESTLED,  as  did  Jacob,  till  the  dawn, 
With  the  reluctant  Spirit  of  the  Night 
That  keeps  the  keys  of  Slumber.     Worn  and  white, 
We  paused  a  panting  moment,  while  anon 
The  darkness  paled  around  us.      Thereupon  — 
His  mighty  limbs  relaxing  in  affright  — 
The  Angel  pleaded:   "  Lo,  the  morning  light! 
O  Israel,  release  me,  and  begone!" 

Then  said  I,  "  Nay,  a  captive  to  my  will 
I  hold  thee  till  the  blessing  thou  dost  keep 
Be  mine."       Whereat  he  breathed  upon  my  brow; 

And,  as  the  dew  upon  the  twilight  hill, 
So  on  my  spirit,  over-wearied  now, 
Came  tenderly  the  benediction,  Sleep. 


161 


THE    DEAD    TREE. 

ERECT  in  death  thou  standest  gaunt  and  bare, 
Thy  limbs  uplifted  to  the  wintry  sky, 
To  supplicate  its  pity,  or  defy 
The  threat  of  wrath  with  towering  despair. 
Around  thee,  like  a  wizard's  widening  snare, 
Lithe  shadows  in  a  web  fantastic  lie, 
Spun  of  the  moon,  in  midnight  sorcery, 
Down  gazing  with  a  madman's  vacant  stare. 

What  reads  she  in  thy  ruin  ?     Lives  the  past 
Recorded  in  the  present  ?     Lingers  here 

The  legend  of  a  glory  overcast, 

The  song  of  birds  long  silent,  and  the  stir 

Of  leaves  forever  scattered  to  the  blast, 
Yet  echoed  in  eternal  dreams  to  her  ? 


162 


HOMELESS. 

METHINKS  that  if  my  spirit  could  behold 
Its  earthly  habitation  void  and  chill, 
Whence  all  its  time-encircled  good  and  ill 
Expanded  to  eternity,  't  would  fold 
Its  trembling  pinions  o'er  the  bosom  cold, 
Recalling  there  the  pulse's  wonted  thrill, 
And  lean,  perchance,  to  catch  the  echo  still 
That  erst  in  life  the  dream  of  passion  told. 

How  calm  the  dissolution!     Could  she  spurn 

Her  spouse,  so  late,  and  brother  ?     Could  she  trace 

The  strange  familiar  lineaments,  and  mark 
The  doom  of  her  own  writing  in  the  face, 

To  find,  alas!  no  more  the  vital  spark, 
Nor  breathe  one  sigh  of  pity  to  return  ? 


'63 


THE    PETREL. 

A  WANDERER  o'er  the  sea-graves  ever  green, 
Whereon  the  foam-flowers  blossom  day  by  day, 
Thou  flittest  as  a  doomful  shadow  gray 
That  from  the  wave  no  sundering  light  can  wean. 
What  wouldst  thou  from  the  deep  unfathomed  glean, 
Frail  voyager  ?  and  whither  leads  thy  way  ? 
Or  art  thou,  as  the  sailor  legends  say, 
An  exile  from  the  spirit-world  unseen  ? 

Lo !  desolate,  above  a  colder  tide, 

Pale  Memory,  a  sea-bird  like  to  thee, 

Flits  outward  where  the  whitening  billows  hide 
What  seemed  of  Life  the  one  reality,  — 

A  mist  whereon  the  morning  bloom  hath  died, 
Returning,  ghost-like,  to  the  restless  sea. 


164 


AT    ANCHOR. 

HOW  calm  upon  the  twilight  water  sleeps, 
With  folded  wings,  yon  solitary  sail, 
Safe-harbored,  haply  dreaming  of  the  gale 
That  wolf-like  o'er  the  waste  deserted  leaps: 
One  star  —  a  signal  light  above  her  —  keeps 
Watch  5  and,  behold,  its  pictured  image  pale 
Gleams  far  below,  a  seeming  anchor  frail, 
Where  onward  still  the  noiseless  current  sweeps. 

Star  of  my  life,  pale  planet,  far  removed, 

Oh,  be  thou,  when  the  twilight  deepens,  near! 

Set  in  my  soul  thine  image  undisproved 

By  death  and  darkness,  till  the  morning  clear 

Behold  me  in  the  presence  I  have  loved, 
My  beacon  here,  my  bliss  eternal  there! 


165 


SHADOWS. 

YE  shrink  not  wholly  from  us  when  the  morn 
Arises  red  with  slaughter,  and  the  slain 
Sweet  visages  of  tender  dreams  remain 
To  haunt  us  through  the  wakened  hours  forlorn, 
Nor  when  the  noontide  cometh,  and  the  thorn 
Of  light  is  centred  in  the  quivering  brain, 
And  Memory  her  pilgrimage  of  pain 
Renews,  with  fainting  footsteps,  overworn. 

Nay,  then,  what  time  the  satellite  of  day 
Pursues  his  path  victorious,  and  the  West, 

Her  clouds  beleaguered  vanishing  away, 
A  desert  seems  of  solitude  oppressed, 

Around  us  still  your  hovering  pinions  stay, 
The  pledges  of  returning  night  and  rest. 


166 


THE    MOUNTAIN. 
A   LTAR  whereon  the  lordly  sacrifice 

J\Of  incense  from  the  reverent  vales  below 
Is  offered  at  the  dawn's  first  kindling  glow 

And  when  the  day's  last  smouldering  ember  dies, 

Around  thee,  too,  the  kindred  sympathies 
Of  life  —  itself  a  vapor  —  breathe  and  flow, 
And  yearn  beyond  thy  pinnacle  of  snow 

To  wing  the  trackless  region  of  the  skies. 

Thy  shadow  broods  above  me,  and  mine  own 
Sleeps  as  a  child  beneath  it.      O'er  my  dreams 

Thou  dost,  as  an  abiding  presence,  pour 
Thy  spirit  in  the  melancholy  moan 

Of  cavern  winds  and  far-resounding  streams, 
As  sings  the  ocean  to  the  listening  shore. 


167 


UNMOORED. 

TO  die  in  sleep  —  to  drift  from  dream  to  dream 
Along  the  banks  of  slumber,  beckoned  on 
Perchance  by  forms  familiar,  till  anon, 
Unconsciously,  the  ever-widening  stream 
Beyond  the  breakers  bore  thee,  and  the  beam 
Of  everlasting  morning  woke  upon 
Thy  dazzled  gaze,  revealing  one  by  one 
Thy  visions  grown  immortal  in  its  gleam. 

O  blessed  consummation!  thus  to  feel 
In  Death  no  touch  of  terror.      Tenderly 

As  shadows  to  the  evening  hills,  he  came 
In  garb  of  God's  dear  messenger  to  thee, 

Nor  on  thy  weary  eyelids  broke  the  seal, 
In  reverence  for  a  brother's  holier  name. 


168 


EUGENIE. 

IN  exile,  widowed,  childless,  desolate, 
Thou  sittest  in  the  majesty  of  woe  5 
And  nations  gaze,  with  shuddering  murmurs  low, 
Upon  the  direful  trilogy  of  Fate. 
Hushed  are  the  warring  interests  of  state 
Beneath  the  pall  of  Sorrow.      Foes  forego 
Their  wonted  discord,  and  with  footsteps  slow 
And  meekened  foreheads,  move  compassionate. 

All  exiles  weave  their  miseries  with  thine; 

All  widows  turn  with  sympathy  to  thee; 
All  mothers  desolate  and  childless  made, 

Mingle  their  moan  with  this  thine  agony: 
And  yet,  to  thee  the  royal  lot  is  laid  — 

Threefold  the  cross  that  measures  love  divine. 


169 


THE  PASCHAL  MOON. 

THY  face  is  whitened  with  remembered  woe; 
For  thou  alone,  pale  satellite,  didst  see, 
Amid  the  shadows  of  Gethsemane, 
The  mingled  cup  of  sacrifice  overflow; 
Nor  hadst  the  power  of  utterance  to  show 
The  wasting  wound  of  silent  sympathy, 
Till  sudden  tides,  obedient  to  thee, 
Sobbed,  desolate  in  weltering  anguish,  low. 

The  holy  night  return eth  year  by  year; 

And,  while  the  mystic  vapors  from  thy  rim 
Distil  the  dews,  as  from  the  Victim  there 

The  red  drops  trickled  in  the  twilight  dim, 
The  ocean's  changeless  threnody  we  hear, 

And  gaze  upon  thee  as  thou  didst  on  Him. 


170 


GOLGOTHA. 

A  LONE  I  stand  upon  the  sacred  height, 
jfJL  Where  erst,  at  noon,  the  night  its  mantle  flung 

O'er  the  Divine  Humanity  that  hung 
To  brutal  gaze  exposed.      The  conscious  light 
To  sudden  blindness  withered  at  the  sight 

Of  mortal  pangs  from  wounds  immortal  wrung; 

The  earth  her  gates  sepulchral  open  swung, 
Impatient  for  the  soul's  descending  flight 

To  her  expectant  shades.      O  Calvary! 

Again  the  dripping  darkness  crowns  thy  brow, 

And  I  (as  then,  to  His  all-seeing  mind) 
Weep  'mid  the  general  gloom.      Oh!  let  me  be, 
As  in  those  hours  of  anguish,  hidden  now 
In  shades  of  death,  the  light  of  life  to  find. 


171 


THE   PORTRAIT. 

EACH  has  his  Angel-Guardian.      Mine,  I  know, 
Looks  on  me  from  that  pictured  face.      Behold, 
How  clear,  between  those  rifted  clouds  of  gold, 
The  radiant  brow!      It  is  the  morning  glow 
Of  Innocence,  ere  yet  the  heart  let  go 

The  leading-strings  of  Heaven.      Upon  the  eyes 
No  shadow:   like  the  restful  noonday  skies 
They  sanctify  the  teeming  world  below. 

Why  bows  my  soul  before  it  ?     None  but  thou, 
O  tender  child,  has  known  the  life  estranged 

From  thee  and  all  that  made  thy  days  of  joy 
The  measure  of  my  own.    Behold  me  now  — 

The  man  that  begs  a  blessing  of  the  boy  — 
His  very  self;  but  from  himself  how  changed! 


172 


THIS  FIRST  EDITION  OF  POEMS  BY 
JOHN  B.  TABB  IS  LIMITED  TO  FIVE 
HUNDRED  COPIES,  WHICH  HAVE  BEEN 
PRINTED  DURING  THE  AUTUMN  OF 
1894  BY  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON, 
CAMBRIDGE,  MASSACHUSETTS. 


Tabb 


Poems 


1894 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


